What Once Was
by pixelblur
Summary: A collection of drabbles covering a variety of interactions between York and Carolina.
1. Lineage

A/N: The first few chapters of this will be my entries from last year's RvB winter, as well as most of my other tumblr Yorkalina drabbles. After that, I'll update sporadically with whatever writings come to mind (prompts welcome). These will not be sequential, or even set on the same time line, unless otherwise indicated in the chapter title.

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"Hey, when are you going to introduce me to your parents?" Carolina looked up from the book she was reading. York had sprawled halfway over the arm of the couch, elbows propped up next to her curled feet, a crooked grin on his face.

"...I don't think that'd work."

"Why?" One arm flopped down, head tilting as he cupped it in his right hand, grey eyes wide. "They super strict or something?"

"My dad is. My mother... was."

The smile dropped, and he quickly moved into a normal seated position. "Aw, jeez, 'Lina, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I know you didn't." She closed the book, dropping it gently on the floor. "It's alright, it happened a long time ago."

"Still, I feel bad for bringing it up."

A smile tugged at her lips. "It's really okay, York. She's not really gone if I just remember her. And who knows, maybe one day, I'll see her again."

"That's a good way of thinking about it."

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"So, why did you want to meet my parents?"

York rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, I kind of wanted to ask your dad something."

Carolina was torn between wanting to smile and frown. "Oh, York. I'd love to, and I really want to, but I don't think my dad would approve at all."

"What, because of the strict thing?"

"Because he'd be jealous." She sighed, slumping against the cushions. "He loved my mother more than anything. She meant everything to him, and when she died, something in him just... stopped. It shrivelled and twisted, and she was all he could think about. I tried to be there for him, I tried to be my best at everything." She rubbed her arms. "I guess that my best just isn't good enough." York looped one arm over her shoulder, and she gladly sidled up to the heat of his body. She chuckled mirthlessly. "He'd be jealous, but part of me likes to think that he'd just be worried the same thing would happen to me."

"...Well." York replied at length, grin creeping back onto his face. "I've never really been the sort of person that lets other people's opinions dictate their life." He kissed the top of her head.

"Besides, it's not like I'll have to talk to the guy on a regular basis or anything."


	2. Impasse

"We seem to have arrived at an impasse."

Carolina quirked an eyebrow. "A, no we haven't because I'm right, and B, impasse? Didn't think more obscure words were your style."

"Well, A, yes we have because we _both_ think we're right, and B, I have a broad vocabulary, thank you very much," York retorted with a grin.

"Why are you so damn stubborn?" she growled.

"Why are you?" he flashed back.

Making a frustrated noise, Carolina buried her fingers in her hair. "I swear to god York, I will drag you to an airlock and jettison you into space."

He grinned easily. "Jettison? Now who's using obscure words?" This comment only earned him a glare.

"Don't you try and misdirect the conversation. Would it kill you to admit that you're wrong for once? And don't you dare try and say that I'm being a hypocrite. If I've made a mistake, I'll own up to it, no blustering or bullshit-" The words tumbled out of her mouth at a mile a minute.

"Carolina."

"-Like that time that South's helmet refused to come off. We all knew you'd rigged it, you're the only one that would think that would be funny, everyone else would know she'd fly into a rage, which, surprise, surprise, she did. You're a terrible liar anyway, why you even bothered trying to deny it-" Now on a roll, she continued on her rant, barely registering that York was talking.

"Carolina, calm down."

She kept on talking, starting to go a little red in the face. "-Or when you locked Wash in his room right before a briefing, or when you put superglue on the Counsellor's data pad - why you would _ever_ think that was a good idea, I don't know - or when you greased the floor of the observation deck, or when you pumped helium into Wyoming's suit, he had to go to the infirmary, for god's sake-"

York realised quickly that she wasn't listening to him, and that she might even keep up her tirade until she passed out. _Nothing for it_, he thought, and kissed her on the mouth.

To say Carolina was surprised would have been a bit of an understatement. That didn't stop her from returning the kiss in earnest, her body melting against York's. A slow blush worked its way up her face as he pulled her closer, hands resting mischievously low on her back.

He pulled away after a few moments, smiling slightly at the sight of her flushed skin. "There, wasn't that nicer than arguing?"

Tucking her head under his chin, Carolina murmured, "I'm still right, you know."

"Are we still going- wait, you just want me to kiss you again, don't you."

She started drawing little circles on his chest with her finger. "That was what I was aiming for, yes."

Grinning, he lifted her chin. "Never let it be said that I abandon a lady in her hour of need," he murmured, lips pressing to hers once more.


	3. Play it Again

A/N: I was a little hesitant about putting this under my Yorkalina drabbles - I mean, I guess it's still the topic, but there's not much of an appearance by half of the pairing.

Oh well, it's obvious I posted it anyway.

Set post season 10.

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Carolina finally broke the silence that they'd been sitting in for the past few hours.

"Church?" Her voice was a little hesitant. She wasn't really sure why they talked out loud to one another, when it would have been far more efficient to carry out conversations inside her head. If you have the ability, then why not use it, right?

She guessed it just made them both feel a little more human.

"Huh?" Epsilon's holographic form sparked into life after a few seconds of delay. "Sorry. What's up, Carolina?" The AI had been distant and distracted since they'd left the squads behind, obviously missing the company of people he'd known for years. Carolina could definitely empathise.

"Could you show me the entries again?" She tapped her fingers together nervously, worrying that he would judge her.

He paused. "You mean, York's journal entries?"

"Yes," she nodded brusquely.

Silence stretched between them, Carolina's shoulders hunching further and further with each passing second.

"...You really think that's a good idea?" he replied eventually. The unspoken 'we've already seen what happens when people in our family go down that road' hung in the air like a dead weight.

"Don't worry, I not going to live my life in a memory," she reassured him. "I just... I want to hear his voice."

Still Church hesitated. "Maybe you should just talk about it instead. I mean, it's probably healthier, right? And it's not exactly like I've got anywhere else I can be right now."

"Church, please," she begged. "Can you please just let me have this?"

"Alright," he said reluctantly. "But we definitely need to talk later. I can tell you've been bottling this up - I'm in your head, how couldn't I? It's not good for you, Carolina. You know it, and I know it."

"I swear we'll talk about it later." They were both surprised by the sincerity behind the promise.

"Okay, I'm just gonna, um, go, and do my thing, I guess." Epsilon winked out of existence, an opaque hologram of York springing up in his place.

Carolina swallowed the lump in her throat and resisted the urge to reach out and touch the holo-York, focusing instead on the sound of his voice.

"Good evening, beautiful people. It's a lovely Monday night and I'm here with another _adrenaline_-pumping journal entry..."


	4. Someone Worth Being Proud Of

York looked up from the midnight snack he'd been fixing himself as Carolina flopped onto the common room couch without any of her usual grace, helmet bouncing onto the floor. The lounge sagged alarmingly from the weight of her armour. He frowned as he took in her boneless posture, her drained expression and the bags under her eyes. Without a word, he swept out from behind the kitchen counter, taking his plate with him.

She cracked open one eye as the sofa springs creaked under added weight, surprised. She'd been so exhausted that she hadn't even noticed York making himself a sandwich on the other side of the room. The edge of the plate nudged her arm as he offered it to her. She looked down at the plate and cracked a tired smile. "PB & J? What are you, twelve?"

"You looked like you could use something to eat," he shrugged, setting the piece of chipped ceramic crockery on her armoured thighs.

It was a child's meal, but she _was_ hungry. Within a few minutes, the plate was empty but for a few crumbs. York bit back a grin as she set the plate on the floor. "You got some on your face," he murmured, reaching out to wipe away the small smear of peanut butter. On a whim, he left his hand on her cheek, gently stroking it with his thumb.

Carolina leaned into his palm, telling herself that it was only because she was so worn out that she was she was letting him do this (and denying to herself how nice it felt).

His eyes softened with concern. "Just back from another mission?" She hummed in the affirmative. He sighed. "The Director's sending you out too often. Look at you, you barely made it to the couch before collapsing. He's going to get you killed." York held her face gently but firmly, making sure she was looking at him. "The next mission he tries to send you on, decline it. Let someone else pick up the slack. Hell, I'll volunteer if it'll give you a break."

Her eyes dropped and she shook her head groggily. "No, I can't. I have to make him proud."

An exasperated sigh escaped York's lips. "Make him _proud_? You don't have to do anything for him if he's going to treat you like this. He's not your father, Carolina."

Normally, Carolina would have been able to mask her reaction. But she was just _so tired_ and she couldn't help the little startled jump. She clumsily tried to suppress the movement, but the stunned realisation dawning on York's face told her she'd failed.

"You... Oh my god, the Director is your _dad_?" he asked incredulously, surprise robbing him of tact.

She hunched her shoulders, pulling away from his shock-slack hand, folding in on herself. York bit his lip. That could have gone better.

After a moment's hesitation, he sidled closer. Childishly, she scooted towards the other end of the couch, the springs groaning in protest. "Carolina..." he said softly. She looked up at him, fear and hopelessness in her eyes. "I won't tell anyone," he promised quickly, and the look faded. "I think I understand. You don't want to be treated differently just because he's your dad, and you feel you need to push yourself to be the best to prove to your dad that you're someone he can be proud of. Is that right?"

Lips twitching upwards slightly, Carolina nodded. "Got it in one."

He grinned. "Well, you can take the next mission off, then. I can't think of any parent that wouldn't be proud of a daughter half as good as you."

The compliment earned him a smile. "Thanks, York." She placed her hand over his and squeezed lightly, a yawn stretching her mouth. Her bedroom was all the way at the end of the hall adjoining to the common room, and the lounge was comfortable enough anyway. With a few weary blinks, she wriggled herself down the sofa, nestled her head on York's lap, and, draping one arm over his legs, promptly fell asleep.

Smiling fondly, he brushed a few stray hairs out of her face, smoothing his fingers along the contours of her cheeks, her jawline, the bridge of her nose. He stopped his tender caresses when it hit him that Carolina was lying on top of him, asleep, wearing a full suit of armour. "Carolina, I'm sorry, you have to wake up. I can't carry you." He shook her shoulder, but she was dead to the world. He struggled to lift her arm from his lap, but as soon as he lifted the armoured limb just enough to slip up from underneath it, Carolina tugged back, fingers curling around his thigh and snuggling closer. While at another time he might have found this endearing, right now it meant he was effectively trapped until she moved again. York sighed, resigning himself to having to spend the night sleeping in a sitting position. With one last stroke of her hair, he closed his eyes and began to dream.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A/N: ...And then someone finds them like that in the morning.

Probably South.

Carolina is not amused.


	5. Battle Scars

A/N: According to one lovely reviewer, the last chapter was fluffy enough to make a pillow.

This chapter is so fluffy you could probably turn it into a blanket fort.

.:':. .:':. .:':.

Carolina frowned softly as she made her way into the infirmary. She'd been in and out for days, waiting for York to wake up. Today, the doctors were taking the bandages off his face, allowing the wound to breathe - and allowing Carolina see the extent of the damage for the first time. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. Taking a deep breath, Carolina straightened her posture and opened the infirmary door.

The sole occupant of the room was resting peacefully in one of the cots, his injured side facing her. She had to hold back a sympathetic wince when she saw the angry red lines trailing from his left cheek to just under his eyebrow.

_Some fragments from his visor must have cut up his face,_ she thought absently, taking a seat next to him. She had steeled herself, but she hadn't quite expected it to be so bad. The wound would definitely leave an impressive scar. Stroking his hair, she had to be extra careful to avoid the tender skin near his eye.

Being the happy-go-lucky person that he was, York would probably think that the wound looked awesome, and make some crack about girls loving guys with scars. Not that he really needed any help in that department - with his easy-going nature and his natural charisma, he could charm practically any woman he met.

Before Carolina could let her mind wander any further down that road, York stirred.

"Didn' think a lil grenade like that could do enough damage to land me in heaven," he murmured groggily, eyes slitted.

She rolled her eyes to hide her relief that he was awake. "You're not dead, you dork."

He shot a crooked grin at her. "You'll forgive me for thinkin' you were an angel." He frowned, blinking his eyes wider. "My face feels kinda weird."

Carolina's gut twisted and dropped to the side. York's right eye was the same gentle grey as always, but the left was a pale, sightless orb. "Oh, York..."

A slightly forlorn expression flitted across his face as realisation hit him. "Oh."

It seemed such an inadequate summation of the fact that half of his vision was now gone.

"York, I'm so sorry." Her fingers clenched on his forearm, and she wasn't completely certain that it was a comforting gesture or to stop herself from collapsing. Maybe it was a little of both.

"'S not your fault, champ."

"I mean I'm sorry it happened."

"Hey, could've been worse." He grinned, already regaining his spirits despite the powerful medication he was on.

"Yeah, it could have been worse." Her voice was far higher than she wanted it to be. "You could have d-" The word stuck in her throat, not wanting to be said.

"'Lina, c'mon, hey. 'S alright, I'm 'kay. I'm here. 'M still here," he soothed.

She couldn't help but laugh - a sad, watery sound. Typical York, trying to make others feel better when he was the one with the busted eyesight. "You could have died," she said clearly.

"'Lina, don't-"

"It was a very real possibility, York," she continued, fixing him with her gaze. "With the line of work that we're in, it's amazing that we've had so few casualties. Our squad hasn't lost any members at all, yet. Maybe it never will. I hope it doesn't. But what happened to you has really made me remember - we're not invincible, even with all our training and equipment. It puts us way above most other soldiers, sure, but in the end we will. Still. Die. So we damn as hell better make sure we live first." With that, she crashed her lips down onto his.

It wasn't the most elegant of kisses, what with the drugs clouding his senses and the distress clouding hers. York really couldn't keep up, so he let her take control, let her claim his mouth like it was the last piece of driftwood from a sinking ship. She poured everything into the kiss - her fears, her concern, her need for approval, her desperation, her passion. Every second passed with astonishing clarity.

After one hundred and forty-three seconds, Carolina pulled away, pale cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

York's lazy smile was only half due to the medication.

"I should get injured more often."


	6. Sierra Charlie Oscar

York slammed onto the training room floor for what had to be the twentieth time in as many minutes. Carolina landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

He grinned up at her. "If you want me this bad, you could have just asked."

The beginnings of a blush stained Carolina's cheeks. Now that he mentioned it - the way she was straddling him, pressing his arms above his head - the position they were in was rather... provocative. With a huff, she blew her fringe out of her eyes and clambered off him, offering a hand to help him up.

With a slight grunt, he grabbed it and stood, still grinning. "Hey, Dee?"

"Yes, York?" The little green hologram appeared over his shoulder.

"Activate sequence Sierra Charlie Oscar, please."

"That sequence breaches several levels of protocol, York."

Carolina eyed York suspiciously as he smirked. "Yes it does."

"Executing. Completed. Systems are now offline."

"What did he just do?" Carolina burst out, unable to contain herself.

The smile on York's face stretched from ear to ear. "Seems that there's been some sort of complication in the security camera system. They're all offline in this sector of the MoI. Shame that. People could get away with anything."

A matching grin grew on Carolina's face now that the pressure of constant monitoring was gone. "And what about the door?" Her voice dropped to a purr.

"Locks from the inside."

Without a word, Carolina waltzed over and locked it.

"Now, where we?"

She tackled him to the ground for the twenty-first time.

"Oh, I think I remember."


	7. Years Gone By

A/N: Have some sadhobo!York.

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York stared moodily up at the bottom of the beer bottle, grimacing when he realised the last of the dregs were all gone. He tossed it onto floor, where it rolled and joined an army of similarly spent glass bottles. He scowled at the growing pile, knees tucking under his chin.

"Betcha don't believe in destiny or fate, do ya, Dee?" The slight slur in his voice was one of the many indicators that the beer he had just finished wasn't the first that night.

"I do not." Delta seemed to be looking at him disapprovingly, even though York knew he had no eyes. "Everyone has a choice in what they do. There is no preordained path that one is irrevocably forced to follow." The ex-infiltration specialist chuckled drunkenly. "York, your vital statistics indicate that your blood alcohol concentration is two point three times the legal limit. I recommend that you refrain from consuming-"

"Ah, I'm not gonna be drivin' anywhere tonight, Dee, settle down." He flopped a hand affably in the AI's general direction. "So, you don't believe in fate, huh?" he murmured.

"That was what my reply was intended to indicate, yes."

"So you think that I could have talked her into leavin' with us, then?" he asked quietly.

"That depends," Delta replied cautiously. "By 'her', I am assuming you mean Agent Carolina?" York hunched his shoulders and nodded.

"What if I'd jus' told her what the Director had done? Would she have even believed me?"

"We did not have the time to explain what had occurred. Even if we had..." Delta paused delicately. "I am unsure that Agent Carolina would have found our information credible. The presence of both Eta and Iota in her mind at one time was altering her patterns of thought. Her response could not have been trusted to be rational."

A bitter huff of laughter bubbled in York's throat, and he fumbled under his bed for another beer. "One year."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb, Dee, it doesn't suit you." York's words were punctuated with a slight grunt as he twisted off the bottle cap. "'S'been one year since the break-in."

Delta had learned enough about tact that he didn't add that it also marked the anniversary of Carolina's death. Instead, he asked, "Is that why you are intoxicating yourself so heavily tonight?"

York mockingly saluted him with his drink, then held it out in toast. "To not believin' in fate," he declared. "To makin' your own choices and livin' life on your own terms.

"To not givin' up hope that what you want is still out there somewhere." York stared out of the grime-covered window, struggling to make out the few stars that shone on the city. Delta said nothing, just quietly winked out of existence and leaving York to ruminate in peace.

He grinned suddenly, taking another swig. "I know you're out there, 'Lina. And I'll find you one day. Even if it's not fate, you'll see me again." Yawning, he set the half-empty bottle on the floor and pushed himself down the thin mattress. It was almost midnight, and he needed to sleep.

_In the morning,_ he thought. _I'll start looking for her in the morning._ His eyes drifted to his collection of empty bottles and, groaning, noticed how many of them were new.

_...After I deal with my hangover._


	8. By Descent

A/N: This is the last of my backup of tumblr drabbles, so updates from now on will probably become more infrequent. If you have a prompt for me, just leave it in a review or PM it to me. It can be anything from a complete scenario to a single word. My sincere appreciation to anyone who does give me a prompt!

.:':. .:':. .:':.

A tired Carolina smiled up at York as he cradled their sleeping newborn son, the infant dwarfed by his calloused hands. The baby was pink and wrinkled and bald and absolutely perfect. "Hey there, squirt," he cooed, and his son squirmed in response, nestling into his palms. "How're you doing?"

"You know he can't understand you, right?" Carolina flicked a strand of hair from her face.

He grinned briefly at her. "He looks like a smart kid."

"He looks like he was born a few hours ago," she corrected, failing to hide her own grin. "Which he was."

"But you can understand me, can't you, Daniel?" He gently bobbed his fingers, causing Daniel's head to nod. "See? Smart kid."

"He's _asleep_."

Daniel gurgled suddenly, eyes slowly opening for the first time.

"Not anymore." York beamed at the newborn. "Look, 'Lina, he's got your eyes."

_He's got his grandfather's eyes_. The thought came unbidden, and York pushed it away quickly. He was not going to go there. _Personality traits are not hereditary, even if looks are_, he reminded himself. _Get a grip._

Carolina didn't notice the momentary dimming of York's smile, being too busy getting a closer look at their son. "Well, there you go. Hopefully he won't get my hair, too. I think one hot-head is enough for this family," she joked.

"You know that statistically, red-headed people don't have a higher level of anger issues than people with other hair colours?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Did that come from Delta?"

"Yep." York grinned wryly. "He's been plying me with stuff about periods of gestation and proper conduct for handling newborns and all this genetics stuff. By the way, it's really unlikely that he'll be red-headed," he added, passing Daniel back to his mother. "All my family has had either black or brown hair for generations, on both sides." _The Director had black hair, and black hair is a dominant gene trait_, his brain supplied unhelpfully. York squashed the errant notion.

The concern never really went away, despite York doing his best to quell it. That wasn't to say he didn't love Daniel - the love was just tinged with worry, with the idea that if York and Carolina didn't raise him right, he'd turn into the sort of person the Director had been. Of course, it didn't help that at seven months of age, Daniel started to grow a wispy head of black hair.

_I'm going to raise my son to be the best he can be_, York decided. _Carolina and I can teach him right and wrong. We're not going to let him turn into that man, no matter the shared genetics._

So, when Daniel started going to school and took a shine to mathematics and science rather than sports, York encouraged him to do what he enjoyed, disregarding his own misgivings. But the final straw was when Carolina, watching Daniel doing his physics homework and noticing how much he was squinting in order to read the questions from his textbook, told York that Daniel needed glasses.

York sort of froze for a moment.

"...Maybe we just get him some contacts."


End file.
